


Soft Touch // Raw Nerve

by klowntatorship



Series: Cyberpunk fics [3]
Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Choking, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Drug Abuse, Emotionally Repressed, Falling In Love, Flex seal aint fixing this, M/M, Mommy Issues, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Theres a whole lot of unresolved emotions going on, Trans Male Character, Trans V, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Vaginal Sex, emotionally damaged, not the sexy kind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28236042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klowntatorship/pseuds/klowntatorship
Summary: Whatever this was, it was frightening, and it left war to wreak havoc within himself. He wanted badly to sink into these feelings, to let himself drown in what Johnny could offer him, but the thought shook him to his core and left fear to paralyze him. He couldn't shake the feeling that it was wrong, that it was dangerous because once he allowed his mind to go there, he knew there was no coming back.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/Male V, Johnny Silverhand/V
Series: Cyberpunk fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2057706
Comments: 6
Kudos: 114





	Soft Touch // Raw Nerve

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be just a small little character study for my V however everything I touch turns to porn. So enjoy some porn with a side of angst:^)

It's the third email V's received in the span of a week. His heart rate spikes every time he reads the name, goosebumps rising along his flesh. He's quick in hitting delete, not bothering to read whatever the email has to say. He had made that mistake the first time, and just thinking about those words left him unsettled. 

"What's got your panties in a twist?" The voice comes from somewhere behind him, and he has half a mind to ignore Johnny. But he's learned from past times that that never works. Johnny, if nothing else, was persistent. In his ideologies and his need to get on every last nerve. 

"Work." V says, shrugging his shoulders. He hears Johnny grumble something to himself, and he thinks that the man is calling him on his shit, but he doesn't push it further, so V doesn't take it any further either. If he really wanted to know, Johnny would already know. 

V knows that deleting the emails isn't going to do shit. Much like Johnny, his mother was also persistent when there were eddies on the line. And the only time she contacted him was when she needed money. It was never to check in on him or apologize because she was a shit fucking mother. Not that he expected either of those, he had known his mother all his life, and those two things weren't ever going to happen.

As if on queue, the little picture of his mother popped up in his peripherals. He wanted to ignore it, wanted to swipe it away like he had the other three emails. But there was something about her calling that made it harder to do so. It was more personal than a simple email. He chews at his lip, listening to the ringing rattling around in his head before he finally answers. He stays silent, listening with bated breath for any signs of life on the other line beyond the image of her.

"Vanna?" The name is soft, said like a prayer waiting to be answered. He feels his throat close up. His hands tremble against his thighs as he attempts to find the nerve within him to respond. She looks tired, and even in the grainy holo, he can see the signs of aging on her. She looks rough, and it's almost sad to see. Though it wasn't shocking. She never saved money long enough to swap out chrome or take any anti-aging measures. Too hellbent on getting a fix to bother with that.

"Uh, hey mom." He sounds small, his voice wavering as he speaks. The cool, calm V who could take anything gone at something as simple as his fucking mother calling, it instantly turned him into that small boy he once was. The boy he was before the streets had hardened him. He felt helpless here, felt like water was filling his lungs, and he was drowning. Each passing second was slow burning and agonizing.

"It's been awhile, you never call." Her tone is sad as she speaks as if she actually cares. She doesn't; she never has. V doesn't think she ever will either. His eddies, though? She very well might love that. "You sound so grown up, my sweet boy. I hear so much about you from everyone."

He grits his teeth, his eyes closing for a moment as he tries to compose himself. V can feel Johnny's eyes on him, watching him like a vulture circling a corpse high in the sky. He's quiet for once, which is nice, but he wished he wasn't here all together. That was probably too much to ask; the fact that his trap was shut was a goddamn Christmas miracle. 

"What do you need?" V finally asks defeate heavy in his voice. It was never about how he was, what was going on within his life but rather what he could provide her. What could she leach from him. "I'm kind of busy right now."

"Too busy for your own mother?" There was something close to hurt in her tone. Though V doubted, it was genuine. Nothing more than crocodile tears meant to pull at his heartstrings and lower his guard. V had learned his lessons. He knew better than to go down that road. It only ever left him with more heartache than he arrived with. His mother was always good at manipulating those around her. "You never call, I just wanted to talk."

" _ Bullshit _ ." V mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's never ' _ I just want to talk _ ', cut the shit, mom. What do you fuckin' want?"

"I'm in a bit of trouble." And there it was, the other shoe had dropped with a loud thud. He wished he could say he was shocked, but he wasn't. It was only a question of what she had gotten into now. He doesn't answer, waits for her to continue with whatever sob story she had brought to him this time. "I owe some people some money and I, I need to pay them back-"

"And you need me to dig you out of your debts?" V asks annoyance filtering into his voice. He gets to his feet, walking over to the shelves that house his liquor, and grabs a bottle without looking. He locks eyes with Johnny as he pops the cork out and downs a good few swigs. The liquor burns at his throat, numb the nerves in its wake. A few more drinks, and he hoped it'd numb the rest of him. He's pretty sure Johnny would try and strangle him if he went out to score. But liquor seemed to be fair game. "How bad is it?"

Johnny gives him a look, and he can read it easily. Or he's picking up on Johnny's thoughts. He wasn't sure which, at this point, the two seemed to often bleed together. Too many thoughts swirled in his head, passing by in a whirlwind of raw emotions that were both his and Johnny's. He shrugs his shoulders, unable to really answer why he didn't just end the call. This was his mother, and as much as he may have hated her for everything she'd done, he couldn't shake the way she sunk her claws into him. 

"It's bad, Vanna." She sounds scared; the emotion in her words for once was genuine. That's when V knows this is serious. Knows that whatever she had gotten caught up in wasn't something to be taken lightly. His mom was a tough bitch, and even he knew that. He could, at the very least, respect that about her. So for her to be shaken up over this meant it was legit. "I have till tomorrow to pay them back." 

They sit in uncomfortable silence for some time, listening to each other breathe while V mulls over what he should do. He takes another swig from the bottle and sighs.

"Send me the deets. I'll figure it out." 

"You can just-" 

"Do you want my help or not?" V snaps at her. There was no way he was trusting his mom to actually deal with this. She didn't have the best track record when it came to having money in her account. He had learned that lesson already. While this situation may have been different, he didn't want to find out. "We do this my way or you can go ask one of your boyfriends to bail you out." 

That was probably a cheap shot on his end, but it was well deserved, he thinks. 

"Ok." She murmurs, eyes downcast like a kicked pupp. It was all her doing. Of course, he really had no sympathy for her at this point. Not when every lesson she taught him felt like a firm backhand and not when the only time she cared about him was when he could help her. "And Vanna? Thank you." 

"Yeah. Don't mention it." V mumbles, closing the bottle and settling it back onto the shelf. "And don't call me again. Not like this."

When the call ends, he feels like he can breathe again. There's still a sickness coursing through his veins, leaving his skin to crawl, but he can breathe. He looks over at Johnny and glares at him for no particular reason other than he exists. Making his way across his apartment, he grabs the smokes he keeps and lights one up of his own volition. No Johnny begging in his ear for a hit of nicotine or anything, just his own need for that release of dopamine to calm his nerves. 

With the way his skin crawls, he craves something stronger, deadlier. It gnaws at his inside, a little voice that is neither his nor Johnny's egging him on to go out and score. It would fix his problems if only temporarily. Make him feel like nothing else mattered but the bliss that would run through each and every nerve making him feel alive. Just thinking about it made him antsy.

"She really did a number on you, huh?" Johnny asks, watching as V smokes the cigarette like he was a starved man. Johnny hadn't actually seen V this rattled since he had shown up in the younger man's brain. It was strange to see, especially over his own mother. Though he supposed he knew why having lived through a few of V's more prominent memories involving her.

"Don't act like you don't know what she did." V snapped at him, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he began to pace through his apartment. He couldn't let himself remain stationary too long. Staying still meant those nagging urges would creep up behind him and drag him kicking and screaming out the door. "She always fuckin' does this shit! Gets herself into some deep fucking hole and comes begging me to dig her out." 

"Because you always do." Johnny scoffs, shifting in his spot on the couch. His lips press thin as he watches the way V moves around like he does when he's hopped up on black lace or blow. He can nearly feel the cravings radiating off of him. "You can always say no. That ever occur to you?"

"She's my  _ mom _ !" V growls, running a hand through his still wet hair. He had just taken a shower before his mom had called. A chance to feel clean only for his mother to soil him once more with her problems. "I can't just let her get  _ killed  _ over fuck, some stupid unpaid debts."

"You can but you won't. You're a soft fucking gonk." Johnny comments before he gets to his feet, carefully he approaches V and places a firm hand on the man's shoulders, stopping him in his tracks. He stares down at V with a stern gaze, brows knitting together from behind his shades. "What has she ever done for you?"

V thinks about the question as he takes a drag from the still burning cigarette. He mulls through various moments of his childhood before he had run away. He thinks about all the bad trying desperately to find something good—anything to justify his stupid actions. Except the good never comes. He can't think of a single good thing his mother had done for him beyond finding him hand me downs and making sure he could eat semi-regularly. He had a roof over his head, sure, but he wouldn't have called it a safe place. She did the bare minimum of what a mother should do for their child.

The streets he roamed were safer than home most of the time. The house was never safe with the revolving door of boyfriends. Some were nice, entrapped by his mom's youthful looks who seemed to actually give a damn about V, but most couldn't give a damn about him, and a few actively despised him, and they made their point known. He was no stranger to getting the shit kicked out of him for just existing. He can recall the way his mother would watch it happen, too strung out to do a damn thing to protect him.

That's when he learned that you could count on no one but yourself. Life was cruel, and no one gives a shit if you live or die. Especially when you're some no-name gonk from Heywood. V's death would've been just another statistic as far as anyone was concerned. Though a part of him couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She was only a kid raising a kid; she was certainly not ready to be a mother at seventeen. V couldn't help but wonder, had she been older, would things have been different? Would things have been okay? No. Likely not, and there was no point in dwelling on the past or what could've been. His mother would never be anything like Mama Welles was, and it was depressing to even think about.

Johnny was right; he needed to quit this. Quit being his mother's lifeline. She hadn't done shit for him, and she wasn't worth the eddies. He knew it, she knew it, and whoever she owed money to knew it.

"Ok ok,  _ fuck _ , alright. I'm done." V sighs, taking a drag off his cigarette before turning to look out the window. He couldn't look at Johnny. Couldn't take the pity or scrutiny that he was throwing towards the man. "After this. No more. This is fucking it. She digs herself into another fucking hole, she better have a god damn shovel." 

"Atta boy." Johnny hums though he can hear a tinge of disappointment in Johnny's words, likely from V even bothering to pay for this, to begin with. But he already said he would, and it would be cruel to let her get killed over his word. He wasn't like his mother; he wouldn't do that to her. What was the saying…. Be a bigger person?

Shaking off Johnny's hold on his shoulder, V moves around him to sit on the edge of his bed, pressing the remnants of his cigarette out against the concrete floor before. He begins to sort through whatever his mom had sent him. He makes a quick call, keeps it short and brief, and ties up the mess that his mother left for him. And while he's out a fair chunk of eddies, there's something freeing about transferring them to the other person. Like he was finally out of debt with his mother, squared up knowing he would never do this for her again. 

She would call again, of course. She always did. She was like a cockroach; no matter how many times V tried to step her out, it was only a matter of time before she came crawling back out of whatever hole she had scurried off to. 

He flops back onto the bed and sighs, staring at the ceiling plastered with various stickers. Some from him, and some from the previous tenants. While he did feel marginally better, there were still a lot of emotions pent up within himself. It was uncomfortable, and he wanted nothing more than to just black it all out in a sea of illicit substances. He didn't want to feel like this; he wanted to feel good. 

The bed shifts, dipping under Johnny's weight. He waits for the man to say something, but he never speaks. 

"What? No snark? Not going to run your mouth over how I'm some fucked up damaged gonk?" V asks, turning to look at Johnny with a raised brow. He didn't like this, detested it almost as much as talking to his mother. He could deal with Johnny running his mouth. He knew how to hit back every curveball Johnny pitched. It was easy, and it was familiar. This was new, this was foreign, and he didn't know how to take it. 

"It's pathetic to kick a man when he's already down." Johnny says, taking off his glasses and clipping them into his vest. There's something like concern in his eyes, and it makes V's skin crawl. He had seen it before in Johnny, had seen it more than once actually. But only once had it been directed towards him when he realized he was no better than those damn Corps he loathed when he realized that taking over someone's body was kind of a fucked up thing to do. He was used to that fiery gaze that Johnny usually held, filled with passion, anger, and lust. Usually, all three at once. 

"I don't need your fuckin' pity, man." V mutters, eyes narrowing. He thinks briefly of taking his omega blockers just to get Johnny out of here, so he can wallow in his shitty life and hate himself without Johnny's prying eyes. He'd still be around the corner, of course, picking up on all the negativity that radiated from him, but at least he wouldn't be around to make V feel worse about it. 

"You need to get out of your head." Johnny offers, and V's gaze turns icy at the implication. He wasn't about to let his mind slip and let Johnny enter. Too afraid that in doing so, he'd fragment further and lose too much of himself. "Not that you fucking idiot."

"Come here." Johnny says, and he uses that tone that makes V weak in his knees. As soon as he uses that tone, V knows he's fucked. He does what he's told and moves to sit up, turning so that he's facing Johnny. They stare at each other for a moment, an air of uncertainty zipping between them before Johnny takes the plunge and presses their lips together.

Johnny's kiss is chaste. Their lips move together in a rhythm that only they know, having been perfected over intimate moments like this. They didn't kiss outside of sex, any traces of their intimate relationship left behind to be forgotten and to collect dust. However, these moments were becoming familiar to him. Something he looked forward to because as much as he hated admitting it, Johnny really did know him best. He knew V inside and out and exactly how he ticked, what sent shivers down his spine, and what made him cry out to a God he didn't even believe in. 

V felt Johnny's tongue begin to prod at the seam of his lips, and eagerly, he parts them. The others tongue dipped in, tangling alongside V's. He could taste nicotine, but he couldn't tell who it was from at this point. The taste of nicotine becoming something he had grown used to in his own mouth since he had begun to pick up the habit. Still, it was something that he associated with Johnny. Maybe that's why he found smoking so appealing these days, a way to have an intimate exchange in unassuming moments.

A gasp falls from V's lips, swallowed up by Johnny's kisses when deft fingers begin to snake up V's t-shirt. His fingers are cold against V's flesh, leaving goosebumps to rise in their wake. Each touch felt electrifying, like little shocks that bled through his body. It was a gentle hint at what was to come, and he craved more.

Their kiss is broken, and V takes this as a moment to draw in shuddering breaths. But there's no real time for him to recover because his shirt is quickly stripped away, and Johnny's pushing him till his back hits the bed. Lips are even quicker to find the newly exposed skin. There's a tenderness to the way the older man drags his lips along V's skin. Starting at the curve of his neck to his collar before following the ink covering the expanse of his torso. It's unsettling; the way Johnny kisses his skin like he cares more about the fact that he's a warm body. There's little time to dwell on it, though, when he feels the flat of Johnny's tongue drag over his nipple. A sharp gasp being dragged from his throat at the sensation. It shifts into a cry when he feels the man's teeth.

Johnny remained like this, sucking and biting at V's nipples until he rocked his hips, a silent plea for the man to continue on. As much as he enjoyed having his nipples toyed with, he would've much preferred the man to use that talented mouth of his elsewhere. Johnny seemingly got the hint, though, and his mouth began to slowly drag down V's body, stopping to nip at the man's hips.

"You plan on making me all soft or something first?" V breaths, locking eyes with Johnny. The pity that swam in those brown eyes lost to amusement and lust. It was a much better look on him, V thinks. He liked knowing that he was the cause of this, liked knowing he had just as much of an effect on him as Johnny did him.

"You'll get whatever I want to give you, and  _ you'll fuckin' like it _ ." Johnny states that soft dominance seeping into his words. Whenever Johnny spoke to him like that, he could feel his mouth dry up, attitude dying on his tongue in a show of submission accompanied by soft groans. "That's what I thought baby."

Fingers hook into the band of his sweatpants, and with some force, Johnny is stripping him of his lower garments, leaving him completely bare. V was well past the point of being embarrassed by this. They had fooled around enough for him not to care, and Johnny had made twice as many comments about him each time he stripped down to shower. At this point, he took to owning it and using his body to rile Johnny up. Just another way to go toe to toe with the older man beyond what their banter could.

V spreads his legs allowing the older man to settle between him and takes him in. He drinks up the sight like it's the best damn thing that he's ever seen. Before V gets a moment to comment on it, Johnny's lips are pressing to the inside of his thigh. He leaves teasing wet kisses along the skin, puffs of Johnny's breath against the patches of saliva, causing him to let out rather undignified noises. 

The older man makes his way closer to his core, teasing kisses marking the way till finally, lips hover inches away from V's dripping cunt. At the first drag of Johnny's tongue through his folds, he's gasping like someone has sucker punched the air from his lungs. It's almost tentative the way he moves his tongue as if testing out the waters to see what gets the most reactions out of V. What reduces him to a mewling whore. V was, however, grateful for that. As much of a dick Johnny was, he knew the importance of pleasing his bedmate and took great care in figuring out what V liked. At this rate, he really was going to start getting noise complaints from his neighbors by the time Johnny pieced together how to take V apart.

With another slow swipe of Johnny's tongue, he lazily changes his actions to swirl his tongue around the hardened length of V's clit. The feeling had V crying out, hips bucking helplessly up against Johnny's mouth. 

Johnny chuckles at that, the sound reverberating through V's body. Firm hands run up along his thighs before he slung V's legs up and over his shoulders before his hands held onto his hips to keep V in place. If V was honest, he was glad for the hold Johnny had on his hips. It kept him firmly locked in place, grounded in his touch. Though he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to rut against Johnny's face with desperate abandon. But the gentle bite of metal and nails digging into his flesh drove him crazy. A myriad of noises escaped from his lips as V's own calloused fingers tangled in long brown locks, tugging sharply till Johnny was moaning against him.

" _ Fuuck _ , Johnny." V dares a peek down at Johnny, his eyes closed and a look close to bliss painting his face as his tongue works V open. He ate him out like a starved man like V was the best goddamn thing he'd gotten his mouth on. The feeling of his beard scraping against the sensitive area only serving to further stimulate him, pushing and blurring the boundaries of pain and pleasure. "Shit, I'm close."

As soon as those words left V's lips, Johnny was pulling back, letting V's legs slide down Johnny's arms before settling on either side of him. A whine of dismay leaves V's lips at the lack of sensation, hips greedily rocking for any kind of stimulation he could get. He didn't care if it was his mouths, fingers, or his cock. He just needed to cum.

Touch never comes; instead, a firm kiss is planted on him. He's eager to reciprocate, happily kissing back, drunk on the contact. This time when they kiss, he doesn't taste the lingering cigarettes. Instead, he tastes himself thick on Johnny's tongue, and he can't help but moan against the other's mouth. 

"You like the taste of yourself baby?" Johnny asks, drawing back just far enough that V can still feel how Johnny's lips move as he speaks. V just moans in response to that, leaning forward to close the gap between them and kiss him once again, not that it matters because Johnny only withdraws further. "I want to fuck you, fuck you till all you can think about is me. Till you're coming around my cock and screaming for me while I fill you up." He says as he shucks his clothes off, letting them glitch out and disappear into the void. The way he speaks about this is so collected, breath hardly showing any waver, but the lust is dripping with each word as he fantasizes. If this was V speaking, he's sure it would be nothing more than a pathetic babble of incoherence. His anticipation only grows as more of Johnny's skin is revealed. V's hand's fist into the sheets bellow, the only thing keeping him from reaching out and touching. "Next time though, think I'll fuck you, nice and slow. Get you nice and wet before I make you suck all your juices off me and paint that pretty face of yours. You'd like that wouldn't you?"

V nods his heads eagerly, thighs spreading involuntarily till there's a slight burn in the stretch of his thigh muscles. He can feel the way slick begins to drip out of him, dripping down the curve of his ass and making a mess of the sheets below. 

"Course you would," Johnny muses with a click of his tongue as he drinks up the wanton sight in front of him. "You'd let me do  _ anything  _ I wanted to you wouldn't you?"

"Yes." V breaths staring at Johnny with pupils the size of saucers, a testament to the raw, unadulterated desire he felt for the man. He watches the way Johnny strokes his cock in slow, fluid motions, a hint of jealousy crossing over his features as he wished it was him bringing the man pleasure. As much as Johnny wanted to learn how V ticked, V wanted to do the same. Wanted to be the best damn lay Johnny ever fucking had. The look on V's face is met with a chuckle as Johnny begins to teasingly drag his cock through V's folds, coating his cock in V's slick.

"I own you." Johnny mutters, breathiness to his tone as he sinks into V with one fluid motion. He watches the way his cock sinks in, being enveloped by V's eager cunt. It's as good as he remembers. Johnny was just as infatuated with V as V was Johnny. A vicious cycle of want and desire that only the other could satiate. "I fuckin' own this cunt."

" _ Yours _ !" The way he squeaks out the syllable is genuinely horrifying to V's ears. His cheeks burn, redness flushing to the tips of his ears and down the column of his threat. Johnny just grins, all teeth. The look alone devours V, sinks him further into his need to submit entirely to Johnny. "Fuck I'm yours, Johnny. Feels so good." 

"Yeah, you were fucking made for me baby. Only me." Johnny breaths, his composure slipping for a moment as faint blush blossoms along his cheekbones. It doesn't last long before Johnny settles into an unforgiving pace, the feeling of his cock dragging along the sensitive walls of his cunt, making his brain short circuit. "Take me so well."

V let out a loud keening sound, words lost to pathetic babbles as he rocked back against each of Johnny's unforgiving thrusts. He could hardly keep up with each thrust, the force behind them hitting all the right spots and making fireworks erupt behind his eyes in white-hot light. It left V a mess, saliva beginning to form at the corner of his mouth as he was left to helplessly take the assault Johnny delivered. Not that it mattered, he would do it again and again if it meant feeling this good. Whatever Johnny wanted, V was happy to supply if it meant he could lose himself in this sea of pleasure.

"Fuck,  _ V, _ you don't know how good you look like this. Taking my cock like some braindead slut." There's a bit to his words but also a softness to them. The softness is a sharp juxtaposition to the words he speaks, but it makes V whine, all the same, basking in the cruel praise. There wasn't any malice to his words; they didn't make his stomach twist like he was truly used like nothing more than a warm hole. It left him with a warmth to spread through his limbs, tingling at him in a way that was foreign to their usual romps. It didn't make him feel dirty.

A familiar metal hand snakes up his body, wrapping around his throat. It rests there, holding him as Johnny fucks into him with no remorse, chasing after his own pleasure. It was a quiet reminder of the power he had over the younger man. V tips his head back, a soft please tumbling from his lips before Johnny begins to apply pressure, gradually cutting oxygen off from his brain. It makes the remnants of his thoughts swim, utterly lost in the all-consuming sensation of what Johnny does to him. It feels like too much and not enough all at once, and God does he want more.

He closes his eyes, focusing on Johnny. From the low noises in the back of his throat, the way their skin meets with obscene slaps, to the way he splits V open in all the right ways. He would never grow tired of this.

"Shit, you feel good." Johnny's voice shakes. He sounds just as lost as V does. And V wishes he could see the look on his face, wishes he could see the way that Johnny's lips part as quick puffs of air pass, how his disheveled hair falls into his face, and the way his brows draw close as he nears his own release. Just thinking about it, thinking about what he can do to Johnny, the power  _ he _ holds over Johnny like this almost makes him crash over the edge.

The hand on his throat lets up, allowing air to pass and blood flow to return to his addled brain. He sucks in gulping breaths, eyes fluttering open to finally catch a glimpse of Johnny. He looks as good as he expects, if not better. The only way to describe it was utterly wrecked, and if Johnny looked wrecked, V didn't even want to know what he looked like. 

Although no longer cutting off air flow, the metal hand remained, holding him firmly to the bed. It was a good feeling, the barest amount of pressure enough to make him feel utterly owned by Johnny. Lost in his thoughts, he hardly had time to process Johnny's free hand slipping between them to gently jack V off in time with his thrusts. V can only sputter helplessly at the added sensation, too overwhelmed to really make heads or tails of it all.

V reaches up with trembling hands, he pulls Johnny closer dragging him deeper in the process, hitting all the right spots along the way. Long nails with chipped nail polish drag down sharp, unforgiving lines down the older man's back, sharp enough that they elicit a loud hiss from Johnny as he comes. His body pulls taut, muscles flexing and relaxing as he screams like a banshee while Johnny fucks him over the edge. It's not long before Johnny's coming, a cry of his own ripped from his throat as stuttering hips still, and he's painting V's insides with his cum. 

They remain locked in each other's embrace, catching their breaths before finally, Johnny pulls back. Slowly drawing his softening cock out of V, ignoring the quiet whimpers before he flops down next to him, seemingly spent. 

Part of V expects the man to dematerialize immediately, but the more they do this, the longer Johnny tends to stick around. He's usually up and off to the side smoking away rather than risking dipping into the dangerous territory of post sex intimacy. Tonight, however, felt different. V could feel it in the air around him, or perhaps he was reading too much into it. And God, he hoped Johnny wasn't taking a peek into his thoughts at this moment. If he was, at least he wasn't saying anything. Perhaps also letting the fear of getting close hold him back. 

"C'mere." Johnny mutters. He sounds tired. His voice hoarse and low in his throat, cutting through the silence like a knife. V turns to look at him lazily, brow raising in a silent question. He gets his answer through touch, his limp body being manhandled till his back was pressed against Johnny's all too hot chest. Frankly, it was kind of gross, but there was something pleasant to it as well. 

"Christ Johnny, I don't need you to cuddle me better. You already fucked any thought out of my head." V mutters, but still, he lets himself go slack in Johnny's hold, not really wanting to put up a fight and draw away from the man. 

"Could you just stop running your mouth for one goddamn minute and just enjoy something for once?" Johnny retorts, the sharpness of his words cut down by tiredness that had begun to settle in their bones. But he can hear it in Johnny's tone, can feel his own fears echoing back at him.

"Rich coming from you." V says before they fall into a somewhat uneasy silence. Whatever this was, it was frightening, and it left war to wreak havoc within himself. He wanted badly to sink into these feelings, to let himself drown in what Johnny could offer him, but the thought shook him to his core and left fear to paralyze him. He couldn't shake the feeling that it was wrong, that it was dangerous because once he allowed his mind to go there, he knew there was no coming back.

He lets out a shaky exhale when he feels the scruff of Johnny's beard brush the back of his neck. V's slipping, he can feel the way his heart begins to tighten at such a simple gesture. Neither of them has to exchange words; they both know it, and it's probably best to leave it unspoken. Better to keep up with the facade of anger driven sex and the false toxicity it exudes. It was safer that way. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
